Toby, Jack, and the Mesoamericans
by queer.near101
Summary: Veracruz was a city which was buzzing with colors, much unlike the suburbs Toby Rogers grew up in. Both him and his mother are aware why they had came to this brightly colored city, to leave the blood curdling memory of his late sister "Lyra" dying behind. That and the near psychopathic father who has been imprisoned. With a classmate, Toby uncovers this cities secrets.


The air conditioning in the car Mom was driving had been up high, it would take a long time for me to adapt to this. My wardrobe was minimum, and in those minimum amount of clothes I have there's only one or two short sleeved shirts. Weather in Veracruz wasn't going to be kind to me.

The sight on the other hand, would. The city was beautiful. Colorful, full of the monuments I could only reach on google. I wasn't explorative but something made me want to run my hands down the age old buildings and temples that me and Mom had passed when arriving off the airplane.

Where had this new apartment been located? I looked to Mom who had been smiling at the road, she must've admired this too. Would the place we would be living at to get away from my dad be beautiful like these streets?

Like these people, too. These people had looked more lively than people in my Suburban area. Me and Mom looked distinguished from them, since we had both been pale with lighter colored eyes and hair. Here, she says the kids are nicer. We'll practice going to school and I'll practice my Spanish and we'll live like Kings.

I won't be teased for not speaking Spanish and looking different, that's what she promises. I doubt that wholly. Kids are hostile no matter where I go. The wind made my hair beat against my eyelid and before I could pull it from my eyes, the car halted and I about stopped breathing from the memory of when other horrible things happened with cars.

This was happening a lot, I frantically looked out the window expecting to see the familar road that had always reminded me of my sister but it wasn't there. The foreign roads prevented another traumatic memory, I breathed a sigh of relief and then leaned my head against the hot seat of our car.

"We're here, oh my, look how cute it is." Mom said giddily at the apartment. The building was a beige color, each door had a patio and some kids had been riding around yelling in a foreign language. A tall one which looked to be around 12 years of age slowed down, staring at the two foreigners exiting their car.

The apartments had been only two stories, but it was still tranquil. I would like living here.

"Yah, cute." I reassured her, twitching my head from side to side and rolling my shoulders. Several bones cracked and so now, we needed to begin the process of unpacking.

It was around 6 pm when we had stopped packing, I was worn out but Mom looked more happy then ever. She would rapidly pull out her phone, texting quickly and then shutting it to smile at me. I was observing this on the couch casually, twitching every now and then.

Would I sound like Dad if I asked her who she was messaging? I wondered, shuddering at this thought. Supper obviously wouldnt be ready for a while, so I stood up. There would definitely be microwaved noodles available, so I began looking for those. Mom wasn't too invested in what I was cooking, so exactly who was she speaking to?

The kitchen was small, but large enough to fit all the supplies necessary for Mom. So I guess that made it perfectly sized for our 2 person family. That's right, Dad was no longer included. I don't know if I'm still obligated to love him but thankfully that bastard had been locked away for several months now, he wouldn't be out for 7 years. This allowed us to make our escape into the wonderful land of Mexico and it's amazing wonders.

My noodles were scoffed down quickly, that being because I hadn't eaten anything except soup and crackers on the air plane. But by the time I had finished she had still been messaging a person anonymous to me, even by the time I had re-read my old comic book for the third time she still hadn't completed her conversation.

That was odd, eventually I thought 'What if she could have found a boyfriend? Or girlfriend for that matter?' I was frightened that any boy or girl would take Dad's role as a person who would hit us. The thought sickened me a lot that I silently wandered through our near empty apartment, down a small hall and to my brand new room.

We didn't have time to purchase a new matress, and I didn't really want to either, so we had kept my old one. Really this whole move was so draining, so I could only collapse onto the bed feeling more tired than I ever had felt before.

"Good night, Toby." Mom called out, not turning the lights off when she left the living room. I forgot to brush my teeth, but I couldn't bother to get up. I didn't call back out either, just huddled under my thin blanket and drifted off into sleep.

The dream I had last night is worth telling this audience. I opened my eyes to the sight of me scrubbing the ground, some hollering in the most odd language I had heard was being said, and I was wearing even odder clothes. But I didn't question it, because I felt entitled to scrubbing and scrubbing so I kept on doing so.

The whole thing was just peaceful, really. Hours passed, I was enjoying myself under the sun, no one bothered to look at me. Not any of the people. But I quickly scrambled up from my feet when there had been a scream, a female obviously.

Choking noises, screaming, yelling. I heard it all from down the hall.

'Is this a nightmare?' I thought, backing up. I knew if I investigated something ugly would be in front of me. So I shouldn't have really bothered, or minded it. The ground beneath my feet was pearly and white, until blood stained the spot I only recently cleaned.

Suddenly someone roughly grabbed my soldiers and I was met with a blabbering old man, eye to eye, who had the skin of an unnamed person suited loosely around him.

'Scream, run, or fight?' These were my three options, my mouth hung open and a little squeak came out.

"Boy, tell the King of the mess in the courtyard. The God doesn't mean well." He had said this with bloodshot eyes, and I sealed my lips and vigorously nodded.

He nodded too, releasing me from his grip. Stains of blood were on my shoulders and it fucking reaked, like ink and pee. The man stumbled away, flaps of skin, or whatever the meat on him was, fell off his old body.

The rest of that unforgettable dream passed in a blur, some screaming took place and eventually it stopped. I never got to tell the King of the God that hadn't meant well, because for that year I brushed it off as a insignificant nightmare and not a foreshadowing of my faith that would come by the end of my year in Veracruz.


End file.
